


so let's take on the night

by petitepeach



Series: maybe it starts now [1]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meeting, Fluff, Kissing, Lots of it, M/M, Tiny bit of Angst, because i literally can't help myself, but it all comes from a shitty ex boyfriend who isn't around for long, happy friday let's drink, that's not a spoiler it's probably obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitepeach/pseuds/petitepeach
Summary: “Basile and Arthur are trying to pick out guys for me.”“Oh yeah?”“Tryingbeing the main word. Lulu is too picky.”or, the one where Lucas goes to a party and meets Eliott.





	so let's take on the night

**Author's Note:**

> elu's...back....alRIGHT
> 
> okay, firstly, i want to say i was BLOWN AWAY but the amount of love my first fic got??? like, the loveliest comments???? everyone is so nice??? i'm cry. secondly, i'm back because elu is still the reason i can't sleep at night but at least i've learned how to spell eliott's name asdfk
> 
> fic title is from khalid's verse on the homemade dynamite remix
> 
> enjoy!!!
> 
> Update 01/02/20: I'm doing a few edits on this series right now, tidying some things up and adding to the earlier parts, so you might notice some changes in any rereads!

Lucas is on his third beer and he’s the kind of tipsy where he’s feeling good; so good, in fact, that he doesn’t mind when Daphné and Alexia pull him onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room when a cheesy song comes on, doesn’t mind when a girl he doesn’t know accidentally spills her vodka on his arm while trying to flirt with Yann, doesn’t even mind when Basile and Arthur start picking out guys they can see from their vantage point in the kitchen, debating on whether they’re good potentials for a hookup.

“What about him?” Basile is pointing towards the living room. Lucas squints through the haze of neon light and smoke from his perch on the kitchen counter. He can’t tell who Basile is talking about because there are people everywhere: dancing, drinking, smoking, laughing. For a moment, Lucas wonders if its possible for a house party to reach capacity, or if they’ll come to the point where everyone will spill out onto the front lawn, then the street, just a mass, heaving hoard of drunken debauchery.

To be fair, he’s there, he brought the boys there, and he doesn’t even know Celine, not really. He just knows she’s friends with Imane, and he kept running into her at the Starbucks inside the campus library for the last two weeks, both of them so tired they could barely form coherent sentences.

But, he supposes, that probably counts for a friendship.

“ _Him_.” Basile says more pointedly, squeezing Lucas’ knee hard enough to make him yelp and spill his beer a little. He follows Basile’s finger towards a group of people sitting on a bed of plastic pool floaties pushed into a corner of the living room. Other than a grey folding table, up against the other wall, that’s the only furniture in the room.

Immediately he knows who Basile’s talking about: the one wearing blue jeans and a tie-dye shirt, telling a story animatedly to the small crowd around him, waving his arms like a marionette. He’s cute, yeah, tall and blonde. Not bad looking at all. But Lucas stares at him, thinks about kissing him, and doesn’t feel a thing.

He shrugs, tilts his head back against a cabinet. “Nah. I don’t know.”

“Oh come on! We’re running out of dudes here.”

“If you want to see me get laid so desperately Bas, why not volunteer for the job?”

There’s a beat where no one says anything, Basile opening and closing his mouth in shock.

“Are you…” Basile’s voice trails off, his eyes wide.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, no, dude, I’m kidding.”

Arthur bursts into laughter and claps Basile on the shoulder. “He’s too pretty for you anyway, Bas.”

Basile still looks scared, but he also shrugs, like _yeah, that’s true_.

“Yo!” It’s Yann, back from wherever he’d gone with the mystery girl. His eyes are glazed over and there’s a plastic flower tucked behind his ear. Lucas meets his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but Yann just laughs. “Boys, what’d I miss?”

“Basile and Arthur are trying to pick out guys for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Trying_ being the main word. Lulu is too picky.”

Lucas sticks his tongue out at Arthur, who makes a face at him. Lucas isn’t picky. He’s not. He just doesn’t like to put himself out there in an obvious way, has never felt really comfortable approaching boys with obvious intent, not the way Benoît did when he—

_Nope. Forget it, Lucas. Forget it._

Yann comes over to the counter and wraps an arm loosely around Lucas’ back.

“He’s too good for everyone,” Yann says emphatically, pressing a kiss to Lucas’ head. “You’re too good for everyone, babe.”

“Especially for that fucking shit stain—”

“Arthur! We’re not supposed to say his _name_!”

“I wasn’t going to say his name, was I? I was going to say—”

“Guys,” Lucas waves the hand holding his beer towards them. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not going to fall apart if I hear his…” And Lucas’ voice trails off because of course, of fucking course, there’s the shit stain himself, wearing an ironic Hawaiian shirt and sauntering in through the front door like he’s a war hero returning triumphantly from the Somme.

Sometimes Lucas can’t believe his life.

“Fuck _me_ ,” he whines, thumping his head against the cabinet.

“Lucas,” Basile says warily, “I thought you said you were kidding.”

“He’s here.” Lucas says, utterly defeated, already mourning the fact that’s he’s going got have to leave the party early or risk completely embarrassing himself. Damn it, his buzz is totally gone.

Arthur, Basile, and Yann all whip around as one, zeroing in on the entranceway with impressive accuracy.

“ _Him_ ,” Basile says, with just as much force as earlier, but in an entirely different tone of voice.

Arthur gasps. “The shit stain. How dare he show his face?”

“I’m gonna fight him.” Basile sets down his beer and pushes up his sleeves. “I will. I’m gonna fight him.”

“You’re not going to fight him.” Lucas grabs onto Basile’s shoulder to keep him from charging towards the hallway. “That’s the last fucking thing I need.”

“Are you sure?” Yann looks speculative. “I think he could really use a punch in the face. Just one. Hard enough to be satisfying for everyone.”

“No.” Lucas sighs, uses the hand that isn’t holding Basile back to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I should just go, if he’s going to be here.”

“Lucas, _no_!” Basile rounds on him, now. His sleeves have fallen back down but he still looks ready for a fight, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks flushed. “You can’t leave!”

“Bas is right. If you leave, that means he wins.”

“He cheated on _you_! He broke up with _you_! _He’s_ the one who should leave!”

“Okay, Bas, I like your enthusiasm, but you’re shouting.”

“But I’m right!”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Yes, thank you, Bas. I know that he cheated on me then dumped me.”

Yann sighs and wraps his arm back around Lucas. “What he’s saying is it’s not you who should be embarrassed, Lucas. Or feel like you have to hide.”

And Lucas knows they’re right. He knows his immediate response shouldn’t be flight, but he just doesn’t want to spend the rest of the party subconsciously scanning the room for Ben, wondering where Ben is, wondering if Ben can see him, wondering what Ben is thinking of him, wondering if Ben is going to hook up with someone else. The idea of it is so depressing to him that he’s not sure he can handle it, even with the unconditional love and support of three drunken boys.

“Tell you what,” Arthur says diplomatically. “Let’s not start any fights or make any dramatic exits. What we will do is get another drink for Lulu.”

Yann snaps his fingers. “Yes.”

Arthur disappears behind the door of the fridge, and Basile and Yann have taken it upon themselves to start hyping Lucas up, dancing around the kitchen and whooping. It’s sweet, in a way, and it’s making Lucas smile. But of course, the noise they’re making also draws Ben’s attention from the hallway, and for a devastating moment, his eyes lock with Lucas’.

Lucas wasn’t sure what he was expecting, the first time he’d see Ben after their breakup. Or more like, see him somewhere outside of campus, where Lucas wouldn’t have convenient garbage bins to hide behind. He thought, at least, there would be awkward recognition. A little nod, maybe. In his wildest, most secret fantasies in the first week after their breakup, he pictured Ben seeing him and immediately knowing he made a mistake, begging at Lucas’ feet for forgiveness. But after a few more weeks, that fantasy turned into nothing more than an opportunity for Lucas to publicly and embarrassingly reject Ben. To make him get a taste of what he made Lucas feel.

What he never expected was for Ben to meet his eyes, blink, then completely turn away from him.

Dismissal.

Lucas feels his face flush. Arthur returns not with a beer, but with a cup of something orange. Lucas still snatches it out of his hand, jumping down from the counter top.

“Let’s go dance,” Lucas says before taking a big swig from the cup. The drink is almost sickeningly sweet, but Lucas swallows and takes another gulp. If he’s going to stay, he’s going to have to get plastered. Fuck dignity.

The boys rally around him and they move the living room, finding a spot towards the middle. The song that’s on is pop-y, catchy, and Lucas starts to move to it, letting his hips sway and his head tilt back. Basile was right. Lucas has just as much a right to be at that party as Ben does. He can’t shut off his life because he’s worried about what Ben will think of him.

The song chances to something older, something that makes a few voices squeal and for the dance floor to swell, bodies pouring in from the other rooms. Lucas gets bumped by a particularly enthusiastic dancer and he’s sent spinning backwards.

At once two things happen:

Lucas glances up, and he sees Ben, leaning against one of the walls and drinking from a red cup, eyes fixed on Lucas in a way that’s light years apart from how he first looked at him. Dismissal? No. That’s… appraisal?

But while Lucas’ mind is racing forwards, sideways, diagonally, his body is still moving backwards, backwards until his momentum is stopped by a wall. A wall that’s warm, and moving, and reaches up two hands to Lucas’ waist, steadying him.

Lucas whips around, the hands on his waist sliding around to the small of his back with the motion. He meets a chest, black t-shirt and broad shoulders and his gaze is moving up, up, up, to a pale neck, pink lips, still up even more _fucking hell this guy is tall_ until he meets light eyes. Light eyes staring back at him, with an intensity that makes Lucas sway on the spot.

_Oh…my god._

Lucas thinks he may have accidentally said that aloud because the guy—model, angel, ancient deity, what _ever_ —his mouth quirks up at the corner, and Lucas watches the motion, entranced. The hands at his back shift, pulling on his shirt, and Lucas is, he’s—

“Lucas!” It’s Sofiane, literally shaking Lucas out of his stupor by grabbing onto one of his shoulders, jostling him. The guy’s hands slip away from Lucas’ back and Lucas mourns their loss so greatly he’s almost mad when he turns to Sofiane and his dumb, sunshine-y face.

“How’ve you been?” Sofiane pulls him into a quick hug. Over his shoulder, Lucas can see Imane, Manon, Idriss, and there’s the guy. The guy, still standing there.

“Yeah, yeah. Good. I’m…good,” Lucas says distractedly, faintly.

Sofiane is beaming at him. “Yeah, last few weeks were crazy, weren’t they? Imane was saying that you guys were really struggling with your finals.”

“I never said _we_ were,” Imane corrects from behind Sofiane. “I said Lucas was probably struggling.”

Lucas mind is still lagging, but, “Excuse me, what?”

Sofiane turns back to Imane. “Really? I’m pretty sure you said—”

Imane shushes Sofiane and pulls him away, shooting Lucas a wry smile. Manon comes over and kisses both of Lucas’ cheeks. Idriss bumps his fist.

“My man,” Idriss says with a wide smile. “Oh, also, this is Eliott.” He gestures to the guy and Lucas’ breath catches a bit in his chest because _the guy_ is friends with Idriss and _the guy_ ’s name is Eliott and _Eliott_ is probably the most beautiful person Lucas has ever seen in his life and he can still feel the phantom touch of his hands on his waist and back.

Is this what love at first sight feels like? Or is Lucas more drunk than he thought?

“He’s in my year. Art student,” Idriss says in a knowing tone, as though Lucas is in on the joke he’s telling, “so, you know, anti-social tendencies.”

“Thanks for that, Idriss.”

Eliott’s voice is bright, sweet. Lucas’ ears strain to hear more of it.

Idriss laughs. “You know what I mean, man. We had to practically drag you out tonight.” He waves a hand out to Lucas now. “And Eliott, this is Lucas. He’s a friend of Imane’s.”

Eliott’s eyes zero back in on Lucas. “Nice to meet you,” he says, casually. And Lucas scrambles for a response, something that will make him come across as cool, fun, interested, available, sexy all at the same time, but it’s like his brain is acting the same as his laptop does when it gets overheated.

_We are processing your request…_

He’s saved, in a way, by the boys coming up behind him, all greeting Idriss, Manon, Imane, and Sofiane with varying levels of drunken happiness. When they’re introduced to Eliott, they all high-five him, and Yann turns his head to mouth, _He’s hot!_ at Lucas, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Some of the crowd from the last song have dissipated, which is good because they’re taking up a lot of room now, a wide, messy circle at the centre of the dance floor. Lucas is across from Eliott, is in the perfect position to watch the way his whole face scrunches up when he laughs, the way his long fingers drum restlessly on the soda can he’s holding, the way he seems to look everyone in the eye when they speak to him, the way he bops a bit to the music, a little awkwardly, but entirely endearingly.

Lucas might be in trouble.

But isn’t this what the boys were telling him to do? Find someone to help him get over Ben?

Not that he—he’s over Ben. Completely. He doesn’t need someone to help him move on.

But, as soon as he has the thought, he turns his head, just enough that he can eye the place where Ben had been standing before. He’s still there, now talking to the tall, blonde guy wearing the tie-dye shirt. Lucas can see how Ben reaches out a hand, running it along the guy’s forearm, and he can remember when Ben did the same thing to him, at another party that feels like it was a lifetime ago, now.

“What are you looking at?”

It’s Manon, standing at his shoulder, following his line of vision.

“Nothing,” Lucas says quickly. He goes to take another sip of his drink but sees his cup is depressingly empty.

But Manon knows him, knows all the different ways Lucas can say, nothing, and mean something. He knows when she figures it out, when she lets out a little gasp.

“Is that Benoît?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Motherfucker,” Manon says instantly, so fiercely that is startles a laugh out of him.

“Whoa, who are you talking about?”

Lucas opens his mouth to say something, maybe to deny it or change the topic, but Basile beats him to it.

“Are you talking about the shit stain?” Basile whips his head around. “Is he still here?”

Arthur’s staring over to where Manon was only seconds before. “I think he’s hitting on someone over there.”

“Oh my god what an _asshole_.”

Idriss raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, who?”

Lucas sighs, resigned. “My ex.”

Idriss nods, knowing, probably heard most of the story from Imane. “The one that plays on the rugby team, right? Dark hair?”

“Yeah. Benoît.”

“The one that _cheated_ on Lucas and then _dumped_ him.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks Bas! Definitely need you to stop doing that.”

Lucas feels his face flushing again. He doesn’t look over at Eliott, can only imagine the expression of pity that must be on his face right now.

Great. The hottest guy Lucas has ever interacted with now knows all about how pathetic he is. Maybe there’s still time for Lucas to make a graceful exit.

Manon gently touches Lucas’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, though. It can’t be easy seeing him like that.”

Lucas shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. Really,” he says firmly when he can feel everyone staring at him. “It’s fine.”

Arthur claps his hands together. “So, obviously the plan is to get our lovely Lucas very drunk, and to help him forget all about evil rugby boys.”

Manon’s eyes light up. “We should find you a rebound.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to do all night!”

Idriss puffs out his chest a little. “Do you need someone to make him jealous? I can do that.” He holds his arms out. “Come here, cutie.”

“Idriss, no,” Lucas tries to sound stern, but he’s laughing, laughing like he was back in the kitchen, flustered and so wildly thankful that he has such dumb, wonderful friends. “I mean, thanks, but it’s fine. Let’s just…let’s just forget about him and have an amazing night, okay?” When he says _okay_ he dares a glance at Eliott and is once again met with those eyes. Only, Lucas doesn’t think that’s pity in them, he thinks that’s…something else.

Eliott mouths _okay_ back at him. And Lucas smiles.

 

The next hour is a blur of dancing and drinking and laughing, Lucas bouncing around from the living room, to the kitchen, the hallway, and back again. It’s like Lucas has had another surge of energy, and he can’t keep to one place for more than a few minutes.

But the entire time, he’s aware of Eliott. Just…aware of him. He sees Eliott over Celine’s shoulder when she drunkenly ambles over to Lucas to tell him she’s been admiring his hair all term. He sees Eliott laughing with Idriss while he’s dancing with Alexia. He sees Eliott rifling through the pockets of his coat, hanging on the rack in the hallway, while Lucas dips back into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Eliott doesn’t notice Lucas, so Lucas take the opportunity to drag his eyes from Eliott’s sneakers, up his long, long legs to his arms, to the side of his head. All night, Lucas has been searching him out, wanting to know where he is, or what he’s up to. It feels different to how he would have been searching for Ben. The feeling in his gut isn’t a heavy, sinking sensation, it’s a pleasant burn of anticipation. Possibility.

They haven’t even talked much, not really. They stood in the corner of the living room together for a while, chatting about music, then movies, then about school; Lucas telling Eliott about his late-night cram sessions, about the Bio final that almost killed him, Eliott in turn telling Lucas about his final crit review, about how he’ll have some pieces in a student show next week. _Hey_ , he tells Lucas, _you should come_. Lucas is pretty sure they’re flirting, but he wants to know for sure, wants to know he’s not alone in a sea of desperate attraction. Only thing is, every time Lucas thinks of approaching him with intent, thinks of playing it obvious, he gets too nervous and runs off. But he wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to talk to Eliott and get to know him, really get to know him, and hear his laugh again and maybe, maybe, maybe he wants to have Eliott’s hands on him again, big and warm.

He’s a little lost in the memory of it, staring down at the sink in Celine’s kitchen and trying to give himself a little pep talk, something along the lines of _You can do this, Lallemant. You can go up to him, and just talk to him, play it cool. But not too cool. Balance. That’s what we’re all about._

“You’ve been hard to track down, tonight.”

Lucas whirls around, already knowing who that voice belong to before he sees his face.

“Benoît,” Lucas says, setting down his glass in the sink, his eyes darting away from Ben’s smiling face. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I want to talk.”

Lucas raises his head. He grits his teeth a little, tries to use the sensation to ground himself. “Really? What could you possibly want to talk about?”

Ben takes a step forward and Lucas mirrors him, taking a step back. He remembers how he first felt when he saw Ben at that party, how he was drooling over his broad chest and muscled arms. He can still, if he pokes at the farthest corners of his brain, remember the way those arms felt around him, holding him down, picking him up, how there was nothing he wanted more than to feel them.

But now, as Ben takes another step forward and Lucas presses back into the counter, Ben bracing his hands on either side of him, Lucas thinks that there’s nothing he wants less.

“I want to talk about how good you look tonight,” Ben says smoothly. “I want to talk about how I know you were trying to tease me out there, dancing with your friends.” Ben dips his head to speak right into Lucas’ ear and Lucas shifts away from it, from the feeling of Ben’s breath on his face. “I want to talk about how much I miss you.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

“You miss me?” Lucas pulls his head back as far as he can. He brings his hands up and pushes at Ben’s chest. “You _miss_ me? In case you forgot, you’re the one who cheated on me, Ben. You’re the one who broke up with me. It’s been months, how the _fuck_ do you only miss me now?”

Ben tries to grab onto Lucas’ hands but he snatches them away.

“I’m serious,” Lucas says. “What fucking right do you think you have, saying this shit to me?”

He pushes at Ben again and he stumbles back, chest heaving.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Ben tries and Lucas is, Lucas is so _done_.

“Save it.” He goes to push past Ben, but he reaches out, grabs onto Lucas’ arm.

“I’m serious too,” he says, “I miss you, baby.”

“If you miss me, then that’s your fault.”

Ben’s grip on Lucas’ arm tightens, and there is a second where Lucas gets worried. He knows Ben is a lot stronger than him, can probably guess that Ben’s been drinking tonight. Lucas glances back to the living room, but he can’t see any of the gang, and no one seems to have taken notice of him and Ben yet.

But it’s fine. They’re at a party, there are lots of people around, and Lucas knows Ben can be reasoned with, most of the time. “Ben, please. We’re over. We’re over because you wanted to be over. Don’t you get that?”

“Why don’t you just come with me for a bit? Let’s go somewhere we can talk. Somewhere we can be alone. I just want to—”

“That’s enough.”

It’s Eliott, who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, standing at Lucas’ side, his face dark. Lucas can’t control the breath of relief he lets out.

Ben frowns. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nobody important. Just someone who can see you’re bothering Lucas, that he clearly doesn’t want to go anywhere with you.”

Lucas glances between them. Ben is intimidating, built like a low wall, but Eliott is intimidating in his own way, in the way he’s leaning over them, in the way his eyes are narrowed.

“Listen, bro—”

“I’m not your bro.” Eliott cuts him off and physically moves between them, so Lucas is at his back. “Look. We don’t have a problem right now, not really. But if you don’t leave Lucas alone, we will. Is that what you want?”

Lucas can see Ben debating, probably weighing the pros and cons of a fight in his mind. But he also sees the moment Ben decides it’s not worth it, when he spots Lucas peering out from behind Eliott’s body. He sees the way Ben’s face hardens, and he can almost guess what’s coming next.

“Have fun with him and his daddy issues,” he spits to Eliott. “He may be a good fuck, but it’s definitely not worth it for how fucked up in the head he is.” He turns and stalks out of the kitchen, out into the hallway. There’s a pause of only a few seconds before the front door slams, audible even over the pounding music.

Eliott lets out a long breath, his shoulders deflating and his hands relaxing. He turns back to Lucas, and there’s a half-smile on his face.

“Well, he was a jerk,” Eliott says lightly.

Only Lucas can’t meet Eliott’s eyes. He’s fixed on a point around Eliott’s middle, and he’s frozen to the spot. For what must be the hundredth time that night, his face is burning.

_It’s definitely not worth it for how fucked up in the head he is._

Of course Ben would say something like that. He always had a knack for finding the words that would cut the deepest, the ones that would lay Lucas’ insides out for everyone to see.

“Hey,” Eliott says gently. He reaches for Lucas, an aborted move, and his hands fall back to his side. “Hey,” he says again. “I don’t know that guy, and I don’t know you very well either, but he has no right saying those things to you. Or about you. Everything that happened between you two is your business. He’s an asshole for airing out someone’s personal stuff like that.”

Lucas nods a little, but it’s numbly. He realizes he’s shaking a bit and he’s mad, so mad that Ben can make him feel that way with just a few words. He hates that Ben came make him feel small like that. Hates that now Eliott has had to experience it.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas says. “Sorry that you got involved in that.”

“It’s okay.”

“And you’re right. He is a complete jerk.”

“The shit stain, right?”

Lucas laughs, just a little bit. “Yeah, the shit stain.”

“Good,” Eliott says, and he’s beaming at Lucas.

“What’s good?”

“Seeing you smile.”

Lucas bites his lip and looks down at the floor again. He’s still feeling shaken about Ben, but Eliott is there, right in front of him, and Eliott is being so _nice_ to him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Listen, if you want to go back to your friends I understand, but if you want, I’ve got some weed we can share.”

Lucas thinks about it, about going off alone with Eliott, about hazy smoke in a dark corner somewhere. Rather than make him nervous, the idea makes him feel warm.

“Yeah, that, that sounds good.”

“Cool,” Eliott says and pulls out a joint from behind his ear. “Do you want to go outside, or…”

Lucas shakes his head. He isn’t afraid of Ben, but he is worried about Ben. Lucas doesn’t know where he was, and doesn’t want any more confrontations that night.

“Is there somewhere we can in here?”

Eliott thinks for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. Come on.”

Eliott guides him away from the kitchen, up the staircase off to its side. At the top, they come to a wide hallway with a few doors leading off of it, lit up only up by a neon pink heart hung up on the wall, and an inflatable palm tree in a corner, wrapped in a string of fairy lights.

“I don’t think many people have been up here tonight,” Eliott says as an explanation. “But that girl, the one hosting, she said it was fine to use the bathroom up here, so.”

“It’s fine,” Lucas says. He can see a sliver of light coming out from the bottom of the bathroom door, but apart from that the hallway is empty. Away from the throngs of people, he can already feel himself relaxing a little, can feel the hurt from Ben’s words softening enough that they no longer feel like a bone-deep pain, just a dull throb prodding at his chest.

He leans back against the wall, and Eliott does the same. Lucas watches as Eliott lights the joint, watches the way the pink light plays over his cheekbones as they hollow out, watches the way smokes curls around his face as he exhales.

In the low light of the hallway, his eyes are almost colourless.

“Here,” Eliott says, offering the joint to him.

Lucas takes a hit and lets the smoke slowly travel down his throat, lets it settle comfortably in his chest. “Thanks,” he says on his exhale, giving a slight cough and handing the joint back.

“It’s no problem. Anyone that has a run-in with a horrible ex deserves some good weed.”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “But seriously. Thank you. And not just for the weed, but just for, I dunno, being so nice.”

Eliott takes another hit, tilts his head back to blow a smoke ring up towards the ceiling. “I mean. I know you were probably fine handling it. But, I was in the hallway and I heard the way he was talking to you, and I just…” Eliott shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Lucas smiles.

They’re both being shy, both giving gentle shrugs and scuffing their feet, taking hits of the joint with lowered eyes, giving _just's_ and stops and starts. It’s so sweet, this moment, so different from anything Lucas has ever felt with another guy, let alone with Ben.

“Also. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s such an idiot for letting you go.”

Lucas’ head snaps up. Eliott is staring at the neon heart hanging across from them. The hand that isn’t holding the joint is on his leg, fingers drumming, still restless.

“I don’t mean in the kitchen. He should never have cornered you like that. I mean, before, how you guys broke up.” Eliott shakes his head, takes another hit. “I can’t imagine having someone like you and letting you go.”

“Someone like me,” Lucas says slowly. It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“Yeah.” And Eliott turns to him, finally turns to face him and leans one shoulder against the wall. “Someone like you. And whatever he said at the end there, it’s none of my business, but everyone has challenges they have to face. None of it makes you less of a person or makes you less worthy of love. Trust me, I’d know.”

And Lucas is speechless. Genuinely speechless because he can’t believe a guy he only just met at a party is somehow able to find the deepest part of Lucas’ heart, hold it and say, _you’re fine. I see you and you’re fine._

“Maybe that’s too much, I’m sorry.” Eliott gives a small, self-conscious laugh. “I’ve been told I can be a bit intense sometimes. Again, it’s really none of my business.”

“That’s okay,” Lucas manages to say, voice embarrassingly breathy even to his own ears. He coughs. “What I mean to say is, thank you. I keep saying thank you, I guess, but you keep surprising me.”

“Yeah? Do you like surprising people?”

“I do.”

“Well. So do I.”

They’re both smiling at each other, and Lucas realizes they’ve moved a bit closer together, close enough that Lucas can feel the warmth radiating off of Eliott. It makes his fingers ache to reach out and touch.

Eliott’s eyes travel down Lucas’ face, and Lucas hopes he isn’t imaging— _please, please, let me not be imagining this_ —they way they linger on his mouth. He drags on the joint again, which is now down to small nub, and gestures at Lucas.

“Share the last bit?”

Lucas isn’t completely confident in his ability to form words, so he nods, and then watches as Eliott smiles, brings the joint back to his mouth, and raises an eyebrow.

Lucas has a moment of absolute confusion, which quickly escalates into wild panic mixed with arousal. _Oh fuck me._

“Only if you want,” Eliott says, and Lucas has a devastating mental blip where he thinks Eliott is responding to his _thought_ and he nearly faints. Only no, Eliott asked him a question and Eliott is still staring at him, gaze intense, an unspoken question there.

And Lucas.

He steps forward, right into Eliott’s space, tilts his head up and meets him halfway.

Eliott takes one last drag off of the joint and tosses it into a metal garbage bin on the floor, and it only takes a second before Lucas feels long, cool fingers on the back of his neck, tilting his head up just a bit more. As Eliott grows closer the thick smell of weed gets mixed with something Lucas isn’t familiar with, something a bit musky. Maybe it’s Eliott, maybe it’s not, but the combination of the two scents makes his head swim.

Lucas catches the smoke Eliott gives him on his tongue, lets it ease back into his throat.

He angles his head even closer and Lucas thinks he might die, he might actually die in the truest sense of the word, when Eliott brings his free hand back up and smoothes his thumb along Lucas’ bottom lip.

“Can I…” Eliott’s voice trails off, eyes moving from Lucas’ eyes to his lips and back again.

In the back of his mind, Lucas knows they’re at a party, knows they’re standing somewhere seemingly private but literally anyone could walk by at any moment. He knows Eliott is a stranger, really, a nice and thoughtful and hot stranger, but a stranger, and Lucas is still a bit upset about Ben and he’s been drinking and smoking and might regret this tomorrow—

Actually, he’s pretty sure he won’t regret this tomorrow.

In fact, he knows he won’t.

Eliott is a stranger but he helped Lucas out when Lucas was also a stranger to him, and he’s been staring at Lucas with those _eyes_ all night and he looks like _that_ and smiles like _that_ and he just seems to _get_ Lucas and just the _thought_ of kissing him is enough to make Lucas’ breath catch.

So Lucas doesn’t back away. He presses even closer, feels Eliott’s warmth seep through his own shirt, into his own skin. He whispers, “You can.”

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Eliott murmurs. “If you’re still feeling down, we can…”

And Lucas doesn’t want to hear whatever is coming next, if it’s _forget about it_ or _go back downstairs_ because yes, Eliott is being really considerate but Lucas is ready to be kissed right now, and he doesn’t want tonight to be all about Ben, he really doesn’t and he might just die on this spot if Eliott doesn’t—

“Please,” Lucas murmurs back, the two of them so close that his mouth brushes against Eliott’s as he speaks.

And that does the trick because the next thing he knows there’s no space between them, none at all. It’s gentle pressure and soft lips and _oh, Eliott is kissing me._

It starts slow, just a few, short presses of lips together, small gasps of breath between them.

“Is this okay?” Eliott whispers in the space between one kiss and another, Lucas practically tasting the words on his tongue.

“Yes.” Lucas says back. “Yes, Eliott.”

He can’t say any more than that, but maybe it doesn’t matter, because Eliott seems to get the message, using his gentle grip on Lucas’ neck to angle his head to the side, deepening the kiss with a slick slide of lips. Lucas’ own hands reach up for Eliott’s shoulders, hanging onto them for dear life when he feels Eliott’s tongue at the seam of his lips and he opens for him, just like that. Eliott lets out a groan and presses forward, kisses Lucas so thoroughly, but somehow still so gently, that Lucas feels his toes curl in his sneakers.

Lucas’ neck is starting to ache from how he’s arching up, but he doesn’t care, can’t possibly care with the way Eliott is holding him, with the way Eliott tastes, with how soft his lips are. The party and everything about it—the people, the music, shitty Ben—are so far away from his mind that he and Eliott might as well be on the moon, might as well be kissing on top of a mountain.

Of course, that’s the moment that the lock on the bathroom door clicks, and the hallway floods with light.

Lucas’ head snaps back like he’s been electrocuted, dropping his hands from Eliott’s shoulders. Eliott doesn’t seem as bothered, though, moving one arm down to wrap around Lucas’ waist, gently pulling him back to Eliott’s side.

Two girls come stumbling out of the bathroom, giggling and holding hands. They stop when they see Lucas and Eliott. Between the four of them, they all look like they’ve been kissed out of their minds.

“Oh,” the blonde girl says in surprise, wide, blue eyes taking in the two boys.

The other one, dark-haired with purple on the ends, laughs and continues pulling the other girl away. “Have fun,” she says to them, suggestion colouring her tone, before both girls disappear down the stairs.

Lucas is blushing, probably, but he also knows an opportunity when he sees one.

“Come on,” he says, ducking into the bathroom. Eliott follows right behind him, and Lucas hears the lock click again, and it’s brighter in the bathroom, but only a bit, the light coming from a small lamp on the windowsill, it’s glow pale yellow over the white tile on the walls.

Lucas turns on the spot and doesn’t think about it when he reaches out for Eliott, doesn’t think about anything when he pulls Eliott’s head down and rises up on his toes, other than the frantic need to feel Eliott’s lips against his again.

But Eliott pulls back for a moment, says “Wait,” and guides Lucas back to the counter. His hands grip onto Lucas’ hips and then he’s being lifted, up onto the bathroom counter, Eliott stepping between his legs and _yep, yes, this works._

The kiss isn’t like the one they shared in the hallway, which started tentative, like a toe dipping in the water. This kiss is like diving into the deep end, Lucas and Eliott gripping onto each other, panting into each other’s mouths and kissing, kissing, kissing until Lucas feels like he’s floating. His hands are buried in Eliott’s hair, whimpering when Eliott detaches his mouth from Lucas’ so he can kiss down Lucas’ neck, gently biting into the skin there.

“Eliott,” Lucas gasps, not even meaning to say it, not knowing what was going to come after, but Eliott’s right there with him.

“Lucas,” Eliott says against his neck. “You’re so…” He cuts himself off, kisses his way back up to Lucas’ mouth.

“So what?” Lucas manages to ask.

“So _beautiful_.” Eliott says, so genuine that Lucas stops, pushes back to see Eliott’s face. In the soft, yellow light from the lamp he looks like he really could be an angel, pulled right from a painting in the Louvre and deposited into a student bathroom.

Lucas scoffs, but it’s still a soft sound, both of them feeling like they can’t speak louder than a whisper, as if that would break a spell. “Then what does that make you?”

“Lucky.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Eliott.”

“I mean it.” Eliott trails a gentle thumb down Lucas’ cheek, brings it down to his lips for a brief touch. Lucas’ lips purse slightly to kiss the tip of it. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you.”

Lucas wonders if he’ll ever stop being struck silent by Eliott’s words, if he’ll ever stop feeling like he’s floating through a dream that was never meant for him.

“Me too,” he tells Eliott, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up at the front. He uses his other hand to reel Eliott back in and then they’re kissing again, wet, open mouths sliding together, the bathroom quiet other than the sounds of lips and breaths and hands sliding over clothes. It’s so good, it’s just so good, so overwhelming that Lucas can barely process what’s happening, can barely believe this is where his night has wound up.

Eliott brings his hands down to Lucas’ waist and slides them up the back of his shirt, the sensation of bare skin on bare skin making Lucas gasp, making him tighten his knees against Eliott’s hips.

“I could do this all night,” Eliott whispers against Lucas’ lips, and Lucas thinks, _Yeah, me too._

He presses forward from his spot on the counter, uses a hand splayed over Eliott’s back to pull him even closer. Their hips bump up against one another, and Lucas is almost shocked to feel how hard Eliott is against him, moaning into his mouth as Lucas grinds up against him. He pushes a hand up Eliott’s shirt, mapping out warm, smooth skin for himself. He brings his hand around to Eliott’s stomach and drags his fingernails down his abs, delighting in the strangled sound Eliott lets out.

“Lucas,” he gasps against his neck. “Fuck.”

Eliott’s hands are everywhere, moving down to Lucas’ hips, tugging him almost into Eliott’s lap, sliding up his back, pulling up his shirt, grasping onto his hair, tilting his head back so Eliott can bite down on his neck. It’s achingly sexy, the way Eliott’s huge hands are gathering Lucas up in handfuls, putting him together and pulling him apart. It makes Lucas feel small, but small in a way he doesn’t mind, small in a way that feels new, that feels like desire.

He pulls at the hem of Eliott’s shirt, wants it _off off off_ and Eliott lets him, lifting his arms, revealing an endless expanse of pale skin that Lucas needs to get his mouth on. He immediately goes for the small tattoo on Eliott’s chest, kissing it once before biting down, then licking over the same spot.

“How are you real?” Lucas mumbles against Eliott’s skin. “How?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Eliott says, guiding Lucas’ head up to bring their mouths back together. Lucas whimpers into the kiss. He’s so turned on, so hard at this point that he thinks he really could come like this, with their hips moving together and the sweet, warm heat of Eliott’s mouth on his own.

But again, Eliott is a step ahead of him, detaching from Lucas’ mouth and crouching down to the floor of the bathroom. He goes for the fly on Lucas’ jeans with obvious intent, eyes hooded, and just as he gets it undone, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, whoever’s in there, you’ve been in there for _way_ too long and I’ve got a girl that’s five seconds away from puking here!”

Lucas recognizes it immediately as Celine’s voice. He thumps his head against the mirror.

Sometimes he really can’t believe his life.

He glances down and sees Eliott looks equally frustrated, his face pressing into Lucas’ inner thigh. He takes a deep breath and stands, slowly, his hands resting on Lucas’ legs as he does so.

When their eyes meet, there’s a beat of silence.

Eliott’s mouth is bright red, his hair is a mess, and Lucas can’t imagine he looks much better, lips practically tingling with how sensitive they are. He licks them once, already addicted to the way Eliott is looking a him, to the way his eyes track the motion.

“I—” Eliott starts, but there’s another knock.

“I mean it, whoever’s in there get the _fuck_ out!”

Eliott swears under his breath. “Right. Okay.” He leans forward into Lucas’ space, and Lucas is expecting a kiss on the lips, so he’s surprised when Eliott presses one softly to his cheek. “Come back to mine?” Eliott whispers into his ear. “I want to stay with you. But, I mean, if you don't, that's alright.”

“No, no, no.” Lucas says quickly, then backtracks. “I mean yes, yes I want to go to yours. Please, let’s do that.”

Eliott lets out a breath that’s half-giggle. “Okay,” he says. “Great. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Eliott breathes out and it ruffles Lucas’ hair. “I really want to wake up with you,” he says, so quietly Lucas almost misses it.

And that’s—

Lucas is leaning in for another kiss, just one more, and the doorknob rattles.

“I’m about to break in, bitches! This is my house and I don’t think you understand. Drunk! Puking! Girl!”

“Okay,” Lucas laughs. “Okay.” He slides down from the counter, Eliott staying close as he does so, their bodies brushing together. Lucas sets his feet on the ground and stares up at him. “Yeah, I need to get you naked, like, as soon as possible.”

Eliott dives down for his shirt and Lucas laughs, then laughs even harder as he watches Eliott adjusts his erection in his jeans, making a pained face. Though, Lucas isn’t really one to talk with his own hard-on situation he has to deal with.

When they open the door, it’s to Celine, staring at them with wide eyes, holding up another girl who’s puking into a plastic bag. Lucas thinks she may be one of her roommates.

“Vero, get to the sink,” she says gently, helping the other girl in. She shoots Lucas a look over her shoulder. Then glances at Eliott. Then back at Lucas.

“Nice,” she says with an approving nod. “Get it, Lulubear.”

“Great,” Lucas says quickly, overtop of her. “Thank you for being a wonderful host, Celine, but we’ll be on our way now!” He hauls Eliott out of the bathroom, calling out, “Bye!” over his shoulder just as the other girl starts throwing up into the sink.

They make it to the top of the stairs, and Eliott is laughing, his face all scrunched up and Lucas can remember when he saw that at the start of the night, when all he wanted to figure out a way to get close to him, to taste that smile, feel that laughter on his tongue, and now—

He can’t not. He presses Eliott up against the railing and wraps his arms around his neck. The kiss is close-mouthed but deep, Eliott holding onto Lucas’ waist and lifting him a little, just enough that his feet leave the ground.

Lucas thinks about what Eliott said earlier.

_I could do this all night._

And yeah Lucas could, but he’s also thinking, _I could do this forever._

The thing is, he’s never met anyone like Eliott before, has never felt so right with anyone, and he’s already trying to think of what to say to make Eliott stay, to make him want to see Lucas after tonight, something slightly less creepy than, _Hey, not to be weird, but I think I might belong with you._

What he settles on is, “I need to say bye to the guys.”

Eliott nods and they head back downstairs. Lucas has no idea how long they were upstairs for, whether it was fifteen minutes or an entire year, so he’s surprised to see the party still going strong. Eliott has disappeared into the hallway, fetching their jackets, and Lucas makes his way into the living room. He passes by Imane and Sofiane, both leaning against one of the walls, and Imane raises an eyebrow at him, eerily similar to the way Idriss does. Sofiane gives him a wave, but immediately his eyes are back on Imane, practically glistening, and Lucas smirks. Imane makes a rude hand gesture at him.

Yann is the first one of the boys to notice him, and starts cheering.

“Lucas! You’re back! You did it, didn’t you? You found a guy?”

Lucas bites his lip and glances at each of them in turn before nodding. All three erupt into cheers, grabbing Lucas by the shoulder and jostling him around.

“Who is it?” Arthur asks excitedly. “Where is he now?”

“He—”

“Here, Lucas.”

Eliott. Handing Lucas his jacket, his own already on. Lucas smiles at him before turning back to the boys, to see them all staring at Eliott, equal looks of awe on their faces.

“Lucas,” Arthur draws out slowly. “Nice work.”

“Oh my god,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Eliott, right?” Yann is asking. “Idriss’s friend?”

Eliott nods and bumps the fist Yann is holding out.

“Didn’t I say?” Yann is directing this at Lucas now, face smug. “Didn’t I call it?”

“You didn’t call shit,” Lucas says. “Now, if you’ll excuse us—”

The boys all let out loud _ohhhhhh's_ at that, Basile humping at the air in a way that’s slightly frightening.

“Well, then, if we must excuse them.”

“You take care of our boy now, Eliott! He’s just a delicate flower!”

“Please. If anything, we should probably warn Eliott.”

“ _Gooooodbyeeee_ ,” Lucas sings out, turning his back on the boys and weeding through the crowd.

Somewhere, he can distantly hear Daphné ask, “Is that Lucas leaving with Eliott?”

Then, Emma, so loudly it makes Lucas flush, “ATTA BOY, LUCAS!”

“Idiots,” Lucas mumbles to himself. “All of them. What did I do to deserve this?” He will never admit to anyone the way his mouth is tugging up at the corners. Dumb and wonderful.

He makes a beeline for the front door, doesn’t stop until he’s on Celine’s front porch, the cool night pouring over him like a balm.

The door closes quietly, and there’s Eliott behind him, smiling.

“Your friends are really enthusiastic.”

“Yeah, they can be a lot.”

“No, I mean, I like it.”

Lucas grins. “Careful. If they hear you talking like that, they’ll try to adopt you.”

Eliott says nothing but his smile widens as he steps past Lucas, down the porch steps onto the sidewalk. It rained while they were inside, the pavement shining and the air fresh. It’s quiet outside, apart from the faint sounds of the party. Lucas has no idea what time it is.

Eliott looks back at him, and he’s lit by one of the streetlights, his eyes and cheekbones and hair tinted in faint orange. Lucas gives himself a second to look. Out of all the times he’s admired Eliott that night, stared at his face and thought, _wow_ , this might be the best time. Because right now, Eliott is smiling, and looking back at Lucas, and waiting for him. Lucas feels that same way he did in the kitchen, before Ben came to talk to him.

Possibilities.

“You coming?” Eliott calls out.

And Lucas pulls himself back to the present moment, lets himself be, because maybe, _maybe it starts now._

Eliott wraps an arm around his shoulder when he’s close enough, Lucas tucking himself into Eliott’s side. Lucas grins up at him, and lets himself be led into the empty street, into the night.

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: the party in this fic is actually based on a very real party i attended after finals once. pool floaties in the living room and all.  
> i'll give this an edit later but for now she's out!!!  
> thanks so much for reading, mecs!!!! :')))))


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